


Interlude III -- Love the One You’re With (Double drabble)

by devovere



Series: Traveling Woman [7]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Marriage, Motherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 04:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devovere/pseuds/devovere
Summary: Some things are too big for words.





	Interlude III -- Love the One You’re With (Double drabble)

**Author's Note:**

> The premise of this series is that Samantha Wildman, designated madonna figure of Voyager, has an interior life. It isn’t always pretty.
> 
> For the purposes of this series, I’ve altered the sequence of two canonical events. Rather than the 2-part episode “Workforce” preceding the establishment of real-time two-way communications between Voyager and Starfleet (which is shown in the episode “Author, Author”), it follows it. Joe and then Sam each get to speak with their spouses before Workforce happens.
> 
> I wasn't a writer, until MiaCooper said I should be. Warmest thanks to her for opening that door and then beta-ing what emerged through it.

He asks, “How did it go?” I draw him near to hide my face. 

“Sam.”

Lips on his neck. He draws breath. 

“Sam. I told you it might … be hard.” I huff, half a laugh. He wasn’t wrong. 

“Shouldn’t we talk about this? You listened after I spoke with Anne and the boys.” 

Again, a true statement. True blue Joe. He had talked most of an evening. Then made love to me. Then, towards morning, wept. I couldn’t claim I’d had no warning. 

I stroke his cheek. Not his smooth human forehead. 

I finally speak. “Joe. Please. We’re  _ here  _ now.” 

=====

He gives in, leaves me my silence on the subject of my husband, my marriage. I close Naomi’s door, then lead him into my room. We are both parents; we know how to be quiet. 

He is a tender lover, and tonight is for me. Joe Carey pays his debts. 

He is deep inside me, we are brow to brow, joined there and everywhere, when I shatter. I muffle my sobs poorly with my fist, elbow wrapped tight behind his neck.

He pulls out, draws me into his lap, cradles and rocks me. 

“I’m not him. But ... I’m here.”   



End file.
